


Unconventional

by BigBadLittleRed



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, M/M, Slurs, Twilight References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16517990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadLittleRed/pseuds/BigBadLittleRed
Summary: A few times someone realized that Roman and Peter were more than meets the eye.





	1. Christina

Christina trails away from her grandparent’s house and into the trees, weaving through the woods until she can see the Rumancek trailer in the distance. As she approaches, she notes that the hammock is occupied, as it often was in the afternoons. Peter was a strange guy, extremely interesting in his own way, but weird nonetheless. Maybe it was because he was a gypsy, or because he was a werewolf (she knew he was, no matter how much he teased her), or perhaps he was just a freak. It happened, some people just tended to be stranger than others, but that didn’t make them any less fun to be around.

 

She pauses in her steps when she hears voices talking to one another, and she quickly realizes that Peter isn’t alone. Christina ducks down and creeps around, hiding behind a tree when she reaches a vantage point that has a better view of the occupants of the hammock.

 

To her absolute shock, Roman Godfrey is stretched out on the hammock in his usual expensive outfit, long legs hanging over the edge of the fabric. Peter is right next to him, his legs not long enough to hang out like Roman’s do. Their shoulders are pressed together, and one of Roman’s arms is pillowing Peter’s head.

 

The two are passing a joint back and forth, Roman takes in a long inhale and after a long moment breathes out a smoke ring. Peter chuckles quietly and says something under his breath, making Roman laugh out loud, this being the first time Christina had ever seen any semblance of happiness on the young man’s face. She wants to know what this is, why these two of all people are involved. So, she steps out from behind the tree and walks closer, the crunch of leaves announcing her presence.

 

“Hemingway!” Peter grins dopily at her, and she brushes off the butterflies in her stomach in favor of focusing on her task.

 

“You two are friends?” She questions, earning a quirk of Roman’s eyebrow as he smokes another pull of the joint between his middle and index finger.

 

“Hemingway?” Roman’s voice is a little rough from the weed, and she finds herself wondering if that’s what it would sound like after kissing her.

 

No, focus.

 

“She’s a novelist, she’s the one that thinks I’m a werewolf.” Peter says with a smirk; Roman’s mouth turns up on one side as he observes Christina in amusement. His eyes held no kindness like Peter’s, he instead watched her like a cat might watch a mouse before pouncing.

 

“Guess that makes me the vampire.” He jokes, looking to Peter for a reaction. The smaller young man lets out a soft giggle, obviously inebriated from the weed.

 

“Sexless threeway.” Peter manages through laughter, and it makes Roman smile even bigger. He drops his forehead against Peter’s temple, crooking the elbow under Peter’s neck so he can pat at the Roma boy’s chest fondly.

 

“You’re not my type, unfortunately.” Roman says, a little soberer now, turning his head and eyeing Christina up and down.

 

“You like brunettes.” Peter objects, Roman twists a finger in the young man’s greasy bangs and tugs just on the edge of gentle to hush him.

 

“I don’t date young, virgins are clingy.” He says casually, Christina can feel an embarrassed blush forming on her cheeks.

 

“Who said I’m a virgin?” She demands, Roman looks to her again and smiles, more malicious than anything else. How someone so cold and callous could hang out with Peter, who despite having a bit of a rude wit to him was rather kind, was beyond her.

 

“I’m a vampire, I have virgin senses and you reek of untouched cooch.” He says mockingly, Peter tries to sit up and Roman presses a hand to his back to help him. Once he’s up, Roman slides off the hammock with far more grace than his smaller counterpart had.

 

“Be nice, Dracula.” Peter scolds carelessly, Roman bares his teeth with a hiss and Peter snorts.

 

“Are you two having sex?” She asks before they can retreat, despite her frustration with them, she wanted to know.

 

“Vampire-werewolf babies, sounds fun.” Peter smacks Roman on the ass, who jerks around to shove at him. Peter laughs easily, trying to grab at his arms as Roman tries to get away. “C’mon, man, this is why she chose the werewolf!” He teases.

 

“She chose the vampire, dumbass.” He ruffles Peter’s hair out of place and then snags his wrist, pulling him towards the stairs leading up to the street. “Let’s go get lunch.” He throws the rest of the joint down and Peter steps on it as he walks by.

 

“Bye, Hemingway!” Peter turns slightly to wave at her childishly.

 

Christina doesn’t miss the way Roman’s hand slides lower to clasp their palms together as they tromp up the stairs. She watches carefully as Roman opens the passenger side door of his red roadster for Peter, who says something she can’t hear before sliding in. Roman shuts the door and looks down at her, his expression stoic and more than a bit unnerving. However, he simply walks around the car, presumably to the driver seat. She pulls her journal away from her chest and opens it, pulling out her pen as the car roars to life.

 

“Interesting.” She says as she grabs her pen, pressing it to the paper.

 


	2. Lynda

Lynda steps into the trailer early in the morning, not having slept the night before. It had been a long drive back from a few towns over, having been knocking on certain doors she didn’t want to knock on for Olivia Godfrey. She had to leave a lot of connections behind when Peter was born, or shortly thereafter. It had taken her a while to set herself straight, and Peter had grown up as steady as someone in their situation could after that. But Peter was grown now, a man in her eyes just as much as she was her baby as well, and they needed money.

 

Upon her entry, she pauses for a moment to drink in the quiet that greets her. Most likely, Peter was still asleep, as it was a Saturday morning. Her boy never did anything half-assed and sleeping late on the weekend was taken very seriously. She heads into the back, gently pushing Peter’s ajar door further open and leaning her head around the frame to look at the bed

 

She can’t exactly she's surprised to see two figures tucked onto the twin mattress, especially when she realizes who it is. Roman Godfrey is tucked against Peter’s back, one arm tucked under her son’s head and the other carefully wrapped around his chest. She’s been afraid for Peter before this, because of this, but now she can only accept what’s happening.

 

Lynda couldn’t ignore the intense looks that the boys shared, the way Peter was quick to defend himself over the friendship in whatever way possible. At first, she figured he just wanted a friend, someone as strange as him in their own way. But now she knew better, seeing the way Peter was sleeping soundly in Roman’s arms.

 

Their stillness is broken when Peter shifts, making a quiet noise, he was always a restless sleeper. Lynda could remember days when they were forced to share a mattress, especially when Peter was little. He tossed and turned, kicked, and even mumbled in his sleep. Those days were mostly over, he didn’t do it so much anymore, but she still could hear him moving around in his bed some nights.

 

What surprises her is that Roman doesn’t move away or push him off when Peter’s legs shift under the covers in such a way that seems to wake him. He just pulls Peter closer and rubs a gentle hand over Peter’s sternum, murmuring something under his breath and falling still almost immediately. He doesn’t even notice Lynda, eyes not even bothering to open in this disturbance of his sleep. Instead, he pushes his face against the back of Peter’s neck and sighs.

 

Lynda had heard many things about the upir, about how they tended to be cruel and callous, with loyalty only to themselves. But she had also heard of their possessiveness, and perhaps that lack of loyalty could be shifted by it. She knew now more than ever that nothing could take Peter away from Roman, once an upir wanted something, they would get it. She could take him across the country and eventually Roman would show up at the door, pissed off and ready to drag Peter home with him again. That could be dangerous, Roman could be dangerous for Peter.

 

But just as well, he could be good for Peter too. Lynda had never had a home, Peter had never had a home, they were wanderers, and that could be lonely. Roman could be something to stick around for, a reason for Peter to stay in one place. Not to mention, Roman had the power to take care of Peter in a way Lynda didn’t. He had Hemlock Grove in the palm of his hand, and while she never had much respect for rich people, she knew what they could do. Roman could protect Peter from the prejudice, from any vile intentions that anyone else might have for him. That was more than Lynda could ever say, and while she didn’t feel inferior for that, she felt grateful for Roman.

 

She watches Peter’s arm twitch and his hand move to grasp the arm that had moved down slightly around his waist. He pulls on it slightly and Roman’s arm moves willingly, pliant as it is returned to its original place. Peter turns his face against his pillow and reaches back to pet Roman’s shoulder clumsily, as if making sure he was still there, dropping it back down onto his pillow once he’s satisfied.

 

Lynda backs out of the room, pulling the door shut as she goes and heading into her bedroom. She pulls off her bra, her shoes, her jeans, and then topples into bed. She can’t help but dwell on the image of her son in bed with an upir, but she knows that despite Peter being young, he wasn’t stupid. She loves her son, and while Roman could spell danger for Peter, for now she would just hope that things worked out in the end.


	3. Shelley

 Despite what some might assume, Shelley is not naïve nor oblivious to the world around her. She knows that her mother is cruel in ways that most aren’t, she is unfortunately like most horrid stepmothers in fairytales rather than the kind and caring mother one would hope for. She was manipulative, calculating, and it seemed that she always had something up her sleeve or a lie between her teeth.

 

Her brother has suffered at Olivia’s hand to a point where the boy Shelley once knew has turned into a young man that is barely recognizable. He was cold and callous like her with almost everyone, and there were days where she feared he might become like that with even her and she would lose him forever. He rarely smiled, only for Shelley and Letha, and sometimes it seemed fake, his eyes hiding a cold underneath that chilled her to the bone.

 

Then came the spry, mischievous little gypsy boy that had more light in his eyes than she had seen with anyone in Hemlock Grove. He wore rag-like clothes and he either didn’t have water or rarely bathed, and yet he seemed happier than any rich person could manage to be. Maybe it was all the things he had seen, maybe it was the freedom, nothing tying him down. He walked with his head low and his shoulders hunched, simply trying not to attract negative attention because it was dangerous to be different around these parts.

 

Shelley liked him almost immediately, he was sweet and flirty, and sure she might have had a bit of a crush on him. But more importantly, he shared his light with others easily, anyone who shared a simple conversation got that same light in their eyes. She was most impressed when he took to making Roman smile, making him laugh even, in a way that Shelley hadn’t heard in a long time.

 

Their mother doesn’t like him, she doesn’t like where he comes from or what he is, but it doesn’t deter Roman. Shelley doesn’t say a word when he sneaks Peter in while their mother is gone for the afternoon. It’s their little secret, and one she would never divulge to anyone, except maybe Uncle Norman.

 

As she passes through the kitchen for something to drink, the front door opens and in waltzes in Roman. She smiles at him, approaching for a hug, which he gladly gives. He has that look in his eyes, so she’s not surprised to see Peter come carefully traipsing in behind him like a wary stray cat. She smiles at the mental comparison, and waves at Peter.

 

“Hey, Shelley.” Peter greets, glancing over his shoulder nervously.

 

“Stop freaking out, I told you she’s not home.” Roman insists with a wave of his hand, Peter scowls and shakes his head. Shelley grabs the phone around her neck and quickly types out a message with her stylus.

 

“Home at eight.” The voice speaks from her phone.

 

“Told you.” Roman quips, Peter jabs him in the arm. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.” He reaches over and Shelley can’t help but be a bit surprised when he doesn’t grab the smaller boy’s wrist, but his hand instead. Their fingers lock and Roman leads him over to the stairs, Peter waving at her and giving her a playful wink before turning to follow obediently.

 

She ends up back in her room at her computer, opening up a new email to Uncle Norman.

 

_Dearest Uncle,_

_I’m sure you must be growing tired of my frequent letters, but I know you will be delighted to hear that I think that Roman is showing interest in someone. It has been so long since he has had a friend, and I cannot remember if he has ever had a significant other in these past few years._

_Although I will not divulge of their identity, I approve of this person and their impact on my brother’s life. It seems that whenever they are around, he takes to smiling like he had in our childhood. The life seems to bloom within him at the mere sight of this person, and I can see the young man I know and love so much resurrect himself from that drab and lifeless shell he has become in recent years._

_They are visiting now, and while I do not dare to spy for fear of hearing things I might not want to hear, I find myself excited on Roman’s behalf. I tend to live my life voraciously through others, and in doing so his happiness is mine own. I do hope this person sticks around and will mean only good things for him, but only time will tell._

_I hope that one day I might have permission to speak of this person candidly to you, to share in our joy of Roman’s success._

_Sincerely, S.G._

 

She sends the email, then gets to her feet, and creeps as best she can out of the room and down the stairs. When she reaches Roman’s floor, she pauses and listens intently. For a moment, there’s quiet, but then she can hear their voices and after a few seconds the sound of Roman’s laughter echoes down the hall. She smiles to herself and heads back upstairs, eager to leave them to their own devices.

 

She could hope for nothing more.


End file.
